The Sacred Sword. Scott Mariani

      Chapter Ten

      ‘See you back at the vicarage,’ Simeon called as he climbed behind the wheel of the Lotus. Shutting the door he gave Ben a meaningful look, as if to say, ‘We’ll be able to talk more then’.

      Ben fired up Le Crock and shivered in the blast of air from its ineffective heater. Snowclouds had drawn a veil across the stars, and frost twinkled on the grass verges in the beams of their headlights as Ben followed Simeon out of the car park. If the temperature dropped another half a degree, the roads would start to get slick with ice.

      However sweetly the Land Rover might be running now that Bertie had worked his wonders on it, it was never going to be a racing car. Ben didn’t have much chance of keeping up with the Lotus, especially with the spirited way Simeon drove it, the low-slung taillights dipping out of sight around every bend and continually forcing Ben to accelerate to close the distance between them. Powering up the long incline on the approach to Little Denton, the Land Rover lost momentum and its revs began to get bogged down. Ben changed down a gear, then another, and gently cursed Simeon for his impetuous behaviour.

      Up ahead, the Lotus sped exuberantly over the top of the rise and vanished from view. Ben smiled to himself at his friend’s antics. Even despite whatever it was that was so clearly and deeply troubling Simeon, he was able to enjoy life. Ben envied that quality in his old friend.

      Ben was nearing the top of the hill when a halo of white light appeared on the horizon ahead of him and then burst into a dazzling flash that made him blink and avert his eyes. In the same instant, the shape of a big saloon car came speeding over the crest of the hill in the opposite direction, its engine note high and strained as if the driver had his foot pinned aggressively to the floor. The car was just barely under control, all four wheels leaving the road as it sped over the top of the rise and went plummeting down the slope Ben had just driven up.

      Ben was blinded for a second. He blinked away the sunspots, peering hard through the Land Rover’s windscreen to regain his bearings on the road. In the quarter-second before he’d had to look away from the dazzling headlights, he’d registered something unusual about the speeding car: one of the twin lamps on the saloon car’s left side wasn’t working – three blinding lights where there should have been four. But in the next moment the car was already roaring off, its taillights receding fast in his rear-view mirror.

      ‘Idiot,’ Ben murmured. He cleared the top of the rise and the Land Rover began to pick up speed on the downward incline. He hadn’t expected to see any sign of the Lotus up ahead, and wasn’t surprised by the sight of the empty road. Simeon had obviously cleared the S-bends at the bottom of the hill and was probably almost into the outskirts of the village by now.

      Not wanting to throw an ageing Land Rover into the bends with quite so much aplomb, Ben took the corners gently and slowed for the little stone bridge over the river.

      Then he saw the black skidmarks that criss-crossed the road like rubber snakes.

      And the gaping hole where the side of the little stone bridge should have been.

      Ben slammed on the brakes and the Land Rover slewed to a halt at the entrance to the bridge. His heart was hammering, his instincts telling him the worst as he leaped down out of the car and sprinted towards the jagged gap in the stonework.

      A strangled cry burst out of him as he looked down at the fast-moving water below.

      The frosty riverbank was littered with broken stone and wreckage. The tail end of the Lotus was sticking up out of the river, the rapid current washing over the roof. The car’s headlights were still on, casting a glow under the surface of the water. Ben could see nothing of its two occupants.

      The silence was stark and terrible, like a shroud that muted the whole atmosphere around him. Ben had known it many times before. It was the stillness that accompanied the presence of death.

      He tore off his leather jacket, kicked off his shoes and dived without hesitation off the side of the wrecked bridge. The shock of the icy-cold water was stunning, heart-stopping, and the powerful current threatened to carry him away downstream. Pressure roared in his ears as he kicked out and swam for all he was worth towards the submerged vehicle. The Lotus’ wedge-shaped nose was buried in rocks and dirt, completely destroyed by the impact. Where the crumpled bonnet joined the bodywork of the car, the windscreen was an opaque mass of fissures. Ben could only just make out the shapes of Simeon and Michaela, behind the glass, still strapped into their seats. He could see no sign of movement from inside. Bubbles streamed from his mouth as he called their names.

      Then the Lotus’ lights dimmed and went dark as the water fused the battery terminals. The depths of the river were plunged into darkness. Ben fought a surge of panic that gripped him and made his heart race. He groped his way blindly around the side of the car and yanked at the driver’s side door handle. It wouldn’t budge. Either it was locked, or the pressure inside the car still hadn’t equalised. Which meant there was still a pocket of air in the cabin. Ben knew that it could take up to a couple of minutes for a submerged car to fill up completely. There might still be hope for them inside, but seconds were like minutes. Ben could feel the pressure in his lungs mounting fast and his heartbeat escalating with every passing moment as oxygen starvation crept up on him.

      Clambering astride the crumpled bonnet he punched at the cracked windscreen. Punched again. He felt no pain, only dimly registered the injury. The weakened glass sagged inwards and gave way in an explosion of air bubbles. Ben shoved both hands through the broken screen and, bracing himself against the bonnet and roof and yanking with all his strength, ripped the whole thing away. His vision was getting accustomed to the murk now, and he could make out the forms of Simeon and Michaela inside the car.

      How long had they been under now? Ninety seconds? Two minutes?

      His movements clumsy against the strong current, he threw the shattered windscreen away and plunged inside the Lotus.

      Ben had seen enough death in his life to recognise it instantly in Michaela. With only the Lotus’ old-fashioned seatbelts for restraint and no airbag to cushion her body, she’d been thrown forward under impact and collided hard against the dashboard. A murky brown cloud swirled around her head where the skull was crushed in.

      Simeon was struggling weakly. His eyes flickered open and seemed to catch sight of Ben. The steering wheel had prevented him from flying forwards. It had almost certainly staved in his ribs, but he was still alive. Ben searched furiously for the seatbelt catch. His chest was bursting. His movements were becoming frantic. Don’t panic. Panic means none of you leaves this river alive.

      Ben’s